MP Game - Yarnspinners

[puffyn]

Oh, and Zen, about you post:

Glad you like the Dramatis Personae; I've fallen a bit behind on updating it, but maybe that's because it takes more to become an important enough character later in the story (just like in the Hall of Fame...)

How fancy a website are you thinking? My original idea for my site was to take everyone's yarns and post them on pages by player (so you can read a story all the way through) and by turn (so you can see what was happening each turn). Then I realized I'd have to crawl through the pages of this thread and extract all the story posts, being careful to keep the fancy formatting, and I got lazy and just went with the Dramatis Personae.

Perhaps for Yarnspinners 2: The Vengeance, players could submit their yarns to whoever was maintaining the game webpage, and the webmaster could add them with minimal formatting (UBB is easy to convert; I use HTML mostly anyways) to the appropriate running pages. For example, Arco's report for Turn 42 would be on both turn42.html and arco_yarns.html. Players could also send text/pictures for a Dramatis Personae at, say, arco_personae.html, as desired. (If we go with astral pearl-based rewards, perhaps you would get one every 5-10 turns if you kept your character list up to date.)

The game page in the forums could either have duplicates of the turns or not, however we want to do it, but would also have links to the external page. That way people playing wouldn't have to know how to maintain a website, but people reading it would have a lot easier time picking up in the middle and keep track of what was going on. Plus there might be more pictures (since it's a pain to upload more than one per post to the forums).

[Zapmeister]

puffyn said:
And I agree with Sedna - there are really only so many ways you can say "this turn we recruited another mystic and three hoplites and Limmy died against independents, again".

Actually, I originally anticipated that the yarns would not simply be reports on the events of each turn. I hoped that the story-writing aspect would overwhelm the gameplay aspect, and that the gameplay would provide the setting for rather than the content of each yarn.

If Yarnspinners 2 happens, I'd also like to participate as a player.

[Sedna]

R'lyeh doesn't scare me, and enslaved Starspawn make such cute pets

Dem's fightin' words!

[CuriousCat]

As much as it may not look like it, I've really enjoyed this game. In fact, the yarnspinning is the part that I liked best. Unfortunately I haven't been as disciplined as Puffyn or Sedna. I did well for a while but RL got busy, I lost the thread of my story, and I never managed to regain it. I am very interested in participating in another yarnspinning game. I'll do my best NOT to drop the ball again.

Also, I echo the thought that Alneyan has been an awesome host.

[puffyn]

---- Arcoscephale, Turn 51 ----

We are marching on Godsgrave Mountain, but everything is different this time. It is early summer, and we have taken the southern route, which was closed before because of bandits. Later these lands were claimed by Vanheim and the One Eyed Bully; but Tushar and another band of mystics, along with Todd's brother Rod, passed this way some months ago on their way up north, and every village we've passed through so far now swears fealty to Arcoscephale (though this far west there are no signs of butter-dances, for which I am grateful).

As I write, we are encamped for the night near the foothills of Mount Isen, and we can see some of Man's spoils from its own war with Vanheim, including lush farmlands and the distant spires of what was once the Bully's capital city. Since his death, there has been very little resistence, and I do not expect the mountain fortress we are marching toward will house more than a few ragged huskarls. But I will not underestimate these mountains again: my troops are well trained, and there are more of them; and the mystics keep proving themselves useful in battle. If we had just had Tushar's blade wind three years ago...

It has been warm and clear the past few weeks, though dark thoughts are never far from my mind this close to where I lost my Thymbre. It is hard to think these gentle rolling hills bursting with wildlife are so close to the cold, dark, icy mountain that still plagues my nightmares. Perhaps it is a simple omen that things will go better this time; but sometimes when I watch Andromache and Balachandra laughing together, my blood runs cold and I wonder what might have been if we had not tried the mountain pass.

Balachandra may feel this too. He and Andromache and a cousin named Bindiya arrived at -- I should say flew into, for all three had pairs of those cursed boots -- our camp three nights ago, fresh from scouting out the mountains. But word has come from the capital that now there is an accute winged boot shortage, and would someone please return one of the pairs that disappeared mysteriously from the mystical labs? (I would not put it past a certain young priestess to have appropriated extra boots to show her lover, and forgotten to return them.)

The mystics conferred and decided that Andromache was least essential to the war effort, and would have to return with the boots. She protested mightily, but oddly enough Balachandra did not take her side, and instead quietly agreed that perhaps it would be best if she returned the boots, and rejoined the army after the battle. She walked off in a huff, and I have not seen her since this afternoon; perhaps she has already left.

[puffyn]

---- Arcoscephale, Turn 52 ----

There is a wall at Godsgrave Mountain. From a distance it is nearly invisible against the backdrop of the range, but up close it is clearly the work of some master craftsman, though the blocks, each as large as a house, bespeak the work of giants and not men. When we first entered the valley a heavy mist hung between the peaks, and the wall seemed to stretch on forever on either side.

"The Jervellan Wall..." breathed Todd in reverent tones, "At last."

Rumors hold that the Vans maintain a stronghold behind the wall, and one of their temples. The same whispers in the night say that the Vans sometimes sacrifice human women upon their alters. This curse of blood seems to lurk in the shadows everywhere. (There is even word from the Sinking Lands that a blood hunter has been caught there, attempting to revive those evil ways. I am uneasy leaving his justice in the hands of the triplets, but I cannot dictate policy everywhere in the empire.) Yet we have seen no sign of Van since we arrived.

Limmy has been here alone for several months, and clearly felt the solitude and whispering silence of this vale. He greeted me as his best friend in the world, and insisted on entertaining me in his quarters (a ramshackle lean-to against the cold blocks of the wall) with the finest foods in the valley (fried snake, and something I can only hope was bunny). He wanted to see my sword of course, which I've named Tempest, and hear the story of the battle with One-eyed over and over again.

It is odd to have his respect. I guess he has always admired my ability to win battles, but for would-be gods like Limmy, the ability to take and hold ground, the value of winning without fighting battles, and the subtly of maintaining an army months in the field in unfriendly and unfamiliar terrain - all these pale against the glory of one on one combat on the battlefield. And so at last I earn his respect, thanks to the aid of... Athena... or whoever really gave me this sword. Respect, and even a little bit of fear perhaps- with a little laugh Limmy showed me his special breastplate and said that it was protection against lightning. "Not that you should try here!" he was quick to reassure me.

I suppose I've gained a little respect for Limmy's own brand of crazy heroism. The Jervallan Wall is unscalable and totally indestructible. The mountains on either side are death for those who venture there, and the wind, which whips down off the frosty peaks, forestalled his attempts to fly over with one of those thrice-cursed pairs of boots. So Limmy has singlehandedly dug a tunnel underneath the wall. He must have moved several tons of earth, and is almost done. "Tomorrow!" he boasted, "we will finally break through. And then..." here his face turned reflective, "I will go somewhere without dirt."

That'll make Todd happy. We'll reclaim his ancestral home, all will be forgiven and forgotten between these two peoples, and I will stop fighting this dying race of seafarers. Stop fighting them, and then what? I am not a bloodthirsty warrior. I have no dreams of conquest. But I do not fool myself into believing that the future holds peace for me.

In the west, the world is burning. Smoke rises every day, and waves of broken and starving refugees have been staggering into our borders with tales of horror and destruction. The forces of R'lyeh have risen up from every deep place, and stained every beach in blood. For what mad purpose none can tell, but I know in my heart that I will march that way also, and fight this rising tide for as long as I can bear arms.

[puffyn]

---- Arcoscephale, Turn 53 ----

The space behind the wall was empty. We burned the blood-stained temple, and I appointed Karl to raise a new one in honor of Zeus. This high to the roof of the world, that seemed the judicious choice. I would have thought that Todd would be happy, but apparently this was only his ancestral summer villa, and Rod is getting all the glory up north taking back the real Firbolg fortress, and we must march there straight-away for he longs to walk those halls again, and climb those towers that once he climbed when the world was fresh and young and blah blah blah.

But the concerns of the Firbolgs pale in comparison to the menace of R'lyeh. Some Firbolgs themselves understand this. Although I've never met her, Maude (apparently the women Firbolgs are also naturally huge) sounds like a pragmatic warrior and a fine leader. Her weapon is known as the Sickle Whose Crop is Pain, so she clearly has no problem administering swift justice against miscreants. She writes me with disturbing news from the Sinking Lands. Ulde has been secretly trafficking in blood slaves again, hoping to discover new powers through the outpouring of innocent blood. She has even been defiling the steel ovens, using virgin blood to temper weapons which she sold to R'lyeh, for who knows what promises. Perhaps even worse, she has held the army there in check while the otherworldly spawn have ravaged the lands of our friends and neighbors- Man.

At last, Maude seized control of the army, imprisoned Ulde, and led a force out to try and relieve one of the few castles still controlled by Man. The battle before the gates of Madderein must have been epic, with hundreds on each side. Maude led the phalanx and mystics to decisive victory swiftly enough that one of the elder Starspawn (these are the main magicians of R'lyeh) even defected to our side, deciding that the tide had turned.

So I must leave the south in her large, capable hands. There is still a force of Man clinging to life on the edge of Vankara Sound. Todd and I will lead the troops there immediately and pray we are not too late. Limmy will fly ahead to confront a local count who has been aiding R'lyeh and attempt to convince him to join us, by force if necessary. The mystics have discovered wonderful things in the hidden valley, and I am inclined to allow them to browse their old books for a little while. We will need all their skill against this slippery foe, and they can join us later. Meanwhile, I send note after note to Rod up north, begging him to leave off his crazy pursuit of the last few Vans and join us against this much larger foe.

But there has been no word from him, though plenty of time for a message to get back. Either he is dead, or completely drawn into his mad quest for vengeance. Either way, for now it is just Todd and I with some 50 hypaspists against all the horrors of the deep. But I do not feel alone; Thymbre lives on in this place - in every sunrise and cool breeze I hear her voice and know that she is at peace. This time in the mountains has cleared my thoughts and left me ready to face whatever the last days of this world hold for me.

[puffyn]

---- Arcoscephale, Turn 54 ----

The news this month is all favorable, and I am worried. What storm waits behind this lull?

The storm is here already, of course, gathering force; it seems to manifest itself literally in the late summer thunderstorms that I would swear have been following me around. While patrolling by the river yesterday, we were attacked by a small band of emaciated soldiers of R'lyeh, who kept taunting us about eating our braaaaains and sucking the blood from our veeeeeins. They were not lightning-resistant, however, and I had but to raise Tempest and watch them fall, crackling. But there are more, far more, that we shall have to face.

Todd received word that Rod was victorious, and has spent so much time waxing rhapsodic about the glories of his ancestral home that I've been avoiding him. He keeps cheerfully muttering nonsense, like "Now all that is left is for the final gathering at the Isle, where shall be determined who shall rule the world, or be damned to hell for all eternity..." and I can only take so much pseudo prophetic mumbo-jumbo before feeling ill. Fortunately, there are other matters to attend to. Our brave scout Celarim, a veteran from Alexander's army still skulking with the best of them, somehow persuaded a small village of Vanheim to join our side so that they would have some protection against the coming tide. Limmy also was persuasive enough that the count (the count's daughter) came over to our (his) side without fighting. In other words, the north is almost at peace, and with little bloodshed.

Maude sent word that the Mannish castle was manned only by a few longbowmen, without even a commander; mostly they were men too old or too young to have been at the slaughter of the regular armies. The citizens of the castle were so grateful that a real army of men had come to defend them that they threw down their arms and welcomed us in. Apparently, they were afraid they would all have their brains sucked out if the forces of R'lyeh had broken through instead.

I do not know much about the strange dwellers in the deep: once, long ago, I received a clam from them, though I have since mislaid it. On occasion we have made small diplomatic exchanges of gems or trinkets, though I never thought we would sink to Ulde's level and traffic in slaves. I know that the creatures of R'lyeh are deeply feared: in the presence of the high Starspawn, it is said, you cannot hear your own thoughts, and your mind burns at the sight of them. They are led by a strange being whose names sounds something like "Thuloo" or "Cuthloo", who eats his foe on the battlefield. Their armies are legion. They say the very oceans of the deep fight for them. In dark times, I wonder what can men do against such reckless hate.

And then I remember the strength of the wind, the grandeur of the stars, and the gathering storm.

[Sedna]

R'lyeh, Turn 53

Xlikloth has gone too far. He found some ancient temple in Man-lands and has decided now that he can pretend to be a god. I have enough loyal followers in his camp now that they will easily exile him from the army and send him fleeing into the sharp pointy-ness of Man.

The Arcoughphelae have marched a cute little army out against my forces in the east, breaking the siege on one of the last Man castles. They've always proved a pretty reasonable race, and have never been too great a threat, so I'm not overly worried. Still, it seems prudent to insert a spy to keep an eye on them. A brave starspawn has volunteered. In battle he pretended to be so influenced by the pitiful human magic that he offered to join their side- and the humans fell for it! If they like that I should try to sell them a wooden horse in Brooklyn.

I have ordered my smithies to whip me up some gear to replace the stuff I lost when I died back in the summer of aught 4. I've enjoyed my time here, recuperating in the depths, but I feel that great things are afoot and soon I shall have to again journey the sunlit lands and sucks brains. The only real threat left to me is Caelum, the bird-folk. They fester like a festering fest on the southern continent, and if they succeed in their little war against Abysia will rival me in strength. Time to strike now, while the metaphorical iron is still non-icy. But first... more armies... more leaders, more money. It was simpler back in the old country, when all you had to do was trigger supernovae in nearby stars to obliterate whole planets.

[Sedna]

R'lyeh, Turn 54

The Vanheim used to be a marginally important race in the north, and are still kinda uppity about it. They snuck deep in lands held by me in a last ditch effort to make a difference before they are snuffed out forever. I believe I will just have to go up there in person. I have another reason for journeying into the dry place. Rumor has it that the Sleepers have awoken, and we all know what that means.

What? You don't know? Don't you ever read?

Actually, you can be forgiven, it's one of these silly human prophecies. Something about awakening for the final cataclysmic battle to decide the fate of the world. Which is all fine and dandy, except that they've taken up with the Arcos. The god of the Arcos is called Pandorkos, and he runs around with a sword that shoots lightning. My spy has been reading his letters to the Sleeper in the east: "Now all that is left is for the final gathering, where shall be determined who shall rule the world, or be damned to hell for all eternity..."

Sammy was very excited at this snippet or information, but was unable to tell me where this final battle would be, or why it might be so important. Somewhere on the eastern shores of Vankara sound, was all he could say. Luckily all that land is safely in my hands (barring a few tasty Van snacks). I've taken control of the northern fortress, I have another one to the south, and two (two!) in the sound itself. Ain't no way nobody gets through to fulfill their prophetic duty. But, while I'm above the waves I might as well take a look around and see if I can find any signs saying, "End of the world, this way. (5 km)"